Together, Yet Separate
by Merida Hughsie
Summary: Charles and Elsie were always mirror images of secret yearnings and upheld propriety. They stand side by side, together, united ... but are they truly that? Very steamy and not the usual way for them to get together. Will be a four chapter long story ... or that's what I have planned. Disclaimer: I don't own them. They are Fellowes' creation, but I play around with them.
1. Chapter 1

_**Together, Yet Separate**_

Elsie woke in the shadowed dark of her room, hands clenched in the bedclothes, heart beating with a force that shook her to her very core. "Oh God!" she choked out.

The cotton of her nightgown was hot and clinging. Looking down, she could dimly see her nipples thrusting through it, hard as marbles. The quivering spasms were still rippling through wrists and thighs, like the aftershocks of an earthquake. She hoped she hadn't cried out because the walls up in the attics were paper thin.

She fell back on the pillow, shaking with weakness, the sudden flush washing her temples with dampness. She had thought that she was past all these juvenile yearnings. Never in her life had she allowed her body to rule over her, but even Elsie Hughes was helpless in her sleep and couldn't stop her subconscious from voicing her secret desires.

"Oh damn it all," she muttered irritably at herself, breathing deeply as her heart slowly returned to normal.

One of the effects of a disturbed sleep cycle is that one stops dreaming coherently, or at least doesn't dream often. Through the long years of service and being woken in the middle of the night because of some emergency Elsie had gotten used to falling at once into oblivion when she lay down, with only fragmented dreams and flashes of recollection, recharging her mind for the work of the day that would come too soon. Lately so she had started to dream more complex, but still pleasantly banal. She was familiar with this kind of dream. Usually, though, such dreams came floating, soft as the satin she touched upstairs, and if they woke her she fell at once back into Morpheus' arms, glowing dimly with a memory that wouldn't last until morning.

This was different. Not that she remembered much about it, but she had a vague impression of hands that gripped her, rough and urgent, not wooing but compelling. And a voice, nearly shouting, that echoed in the chambers of her inner ear, along with the sound of her fading heartbeat.

She put a hand on her chest over the leaping pulse, feeling the soft fullness of her breast beneath the still sweat-dampened cotton. Her heartbeat was slowing under her hand, under her still rapidly rising ribcage. Closing her eyes to further calm herself, she heard the voice of her dreams echoing through ears and heart, repeated with each tiny sound of the night, and her heart sped up again, eyes flying wide open.

"You are mine," it had said. "Mine! And I will not let you go."

oOoOoOo

He dreamed of Elsie that night again. _She lay in his arms, heavily-limbed and fragrant. She was pregnant; her belly round and smooth as a melon, her breasts rich and full, the nipples dark as a rich red wine, urging him to taste them._

_Her hand cupped itself between his legs and he reached to return the favour, the small softness of her filling his hand, pressing against him as she moved. She rose over him, smiling, her hair falling down around her face, and threw her leg across him. _

_ "Come here and kiss me," he whispered, not wanting to waste another second without her taste on his tongue._

_ "You kiss me," she said. She laughed and leaned down to him, hands on his shoulders, her hair brushing his face with the scent of lily-of-the-valley and sunlight. He could feel the prickle of dry leaves against his back and knew they lay in the grounds around the Abbey even though the house was nowhere in sight. He looked up at her and saw her the same colour of the copper beeches all round, the copper both accenting and imitating her darker mahogany curls. Her blue eyes sparkled like the sky above them and her smooth white skin, skimmed with shadows enticed him. Then her breast pressed against his mouth and he took it eagerly, drawing her body tight against him as he suckled her. Her milk was hot and sweet._

_ "Harder," she whispered to him and put her hand behind his head, gripping the back of his neck, pressing him to her. "Harder."_

_She lay with her entire length upon him, his hands holding for dear life to the sweet flesh of her buttocks, feeling the small solid weight of the child upon his own belly, as though they shared it now, protecting the small round thing between their bodies._

_He flung his arms about her, tight, and she held him just as tightly as he jerked and shuddered, her hair in his face, her hands in his hair and the child between them not knowing where any of the three of them began or ended._

Charles woke suddenly, panting and sweating, half-curled on his side beneath the blanket of his small bed. It was not yet quite light, but he could see the shapes of his furniture and, since his hearing was more acute at night, he listened intently for the other men in the attics, hoping he hadn't cried out. He closed his eyes again, but the dream was gone. Charles lay quite still, his heart slowing, and waited for the dawn to come and herald another day where Elsie was close enough to touch but out of his reach.

oOoOoOo


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning found Elsie sitting in front of her vanity, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror. She was trembling slightly in the cool air permeating the attics, but not only from the cold. She was upset, deeply upset. Last night's dream had startled her, shaken her to the very roots of her being and awakening something in her. Long ago Elsie had decided that a husband was more trouble than he was worth and that the risk of repercussions and consequences was far too high for a few heedless moments of giving in to temptation. A spinster; that's what she was. Although, lately she had started to regret her rash decision and this regret had formed around the sturdy frame of a certain butler.

Ever since she had found out about Anna's secret wedding to Mr Bates and the Crawleys' ready acceptance of it, she had begun to wonder if she could possibly have both: a fulfilling career and the 'other way' including marriage. Seeing Mr Carson tenderly cradling Miss Sybil to his chest, taming his booming voice to a low, soothing rumble, had sealed the deal for her. In that moment she knew she had lost her heart to him.

Her dream had shown her clearly the regrets she had. She would never carry his child under her heart. It had also made her realise that she would not be able to resist him should he ever proposition her. She was lonely … by her own choice admittedly, but still … and both her soul and her body yearned for someone to hold her.

Hot tears of shame and regret streamed down her cheeks, blinding her to the beautiful landscape under her window bathed in the first warm rays of the sun. Elsie didn't feel its comforting warmth, though. Her entire body was frigid with the coldness of her loveless existence.

Despite having been awake for hours already. She didn't hear Daisy's knock on her door or her cheerful 'good morning'. Her miserable thoughts deafened her to the world outside her mind. Today she just couldn't face anyone … not when her body still tingled with barely repressed longing and her body in such turmoil.

oOoOoOo

Jimmy knocked energetically on Mr Carson's door, rousing the older man from his blissful slumber. With a jerk, that lifted almost his entire body a good few inches off the bed, Charles' eyes flew open. His mind was foggy, unfocused when normally even a few stolen moments of rest sufficed to restore his equilibrium. After last night, though, he felt more exhausted than yesterday evening. Suddenly and with startling clarity he noticed his hand lying in his lap, his fingers wrapped around him under the waistband of his pyjama pants. Horrified he jerked his hand away.

The doctrines of his upbringing had been clear about carnal sins. Indulging in masturbation certainly was one of those aforementioned carnal sins and usually Charles could stop his body from giving in to this urge. Only a few times had the urge been too great to ignore and he had sought release. He had felt guilty every single time, but not overly so since he had also felt the last remnants of his afterglow, body still tingling and mind pleasantly exhausted.

This now was completely different and wrong!

For the first time the vaporous woman of his lascivious dreams had sported a face. Charles knew every minute detail of this face, holding it dear, but this face shouldn't be in his dreams, especially not those kinds of dreams. Mrs Hughes, after all, was a woman of honour and repute. Defiling her even in his dreams almost felt like a betrayal … why then was his blood still boiling, pumping rapidly in his veins and especially in his lower regions?!

Sternly he told his body to behave itself, beating it into submission as he struggled out of his tangled sheets. "I'm up, James!" he called out, thinking darkly, 'in more ways than you think.'

Today would be a trying day of avoiding _her _without being too obvious. If he were to be alone with her, he couldn't be trusted to leave her reputation intact … not now that his baser urges seemed focussed on her. Sighing heavily he heaved himself up and tottered to his washstand, for once grateful for the freezing cold water in his pitcher.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"She's not down yet," Mrs Patmore greeted him jovially, industriously beating eggs for their omelettes. The cook was already sweaty and dishevelled despite the early hour of the day. "I'm waiting for her myself," she rambled on. "If she would just give me the blasted key to the store room, I would leave her be, but no Mary bloody Queen of Scots refuses to cooperate." Her movements grew more aggressive with each word even though, there wasn't real venom in her voice anymore.

Mr Carson sighed in exasperation. He had come out of the frying pan and gone into the fire; shouldn't Mrs Hughes appear in the next few minutes, he would have to go look for her since Mrs Patmore couldn't leave the kitchen. Despite his promise to himself he would have to face her, deliberately talking to her. His only help was that he would be able to control himself in front of her. Maybe it was a better idea to send Anna in search of her … or maybe he wouldn't even need to do that because surely she would pop up at any moment.

With a noncommittal shrug to the cook he left the kitchen for the sanctuary of his pantry. Mrs Hughes was a reliable colleague after all and always performed her duties to his full satisfaction … 'oh no, old boy, wrong choice of words,' he thought bitterly, chastising himself severely. It would do him a world of good to cool off in his pantry, getting his wayward thought for his housekeeper out of the gutter.

oOoOoOo

Having worked quietly without interruption of any catastrophe, Charles had thought himself safe in assuming that his trusty housekeeper had been found. When his inner clock and growling stomach told him it was time for breakfast, Charles cautiously emerged from his den, surreptiously scanning up and down the corridor in hopes of avoiding Mrs Hughes for as long as possible. Seeing that the coast was clear, he tiptoed out edging towards the Servants' Hall.

Thomas was lurking in the shadows by the back door, observing the strange and highly amusing behaviour of their stout leader. Something was definitely off this morning. Mr Carson behaved very suspiciously and Mrs Hughes hadn't even made an appearance downstairs. This oddity certainly peaked his interest. Maybe he could rile Mr Carson up some more. Strolling leisurely into the Servants' Hall, he stood at attention waiting behind his usual seat.

When Mr Carson came into the room moments later, Thomas was hard pressed not to smirk mischievously. Unwittingly Anna played along with his plans.

"Mr Carson, pardon me for the interruption," she said meekly before anyone could sit down, "but Mrs Hughes hasn't come down yet. She didn't answer her door, either, when I knocked at her parlour to see if she had paper work to complete this morning. I fear she has fallen ill, but we can't just barge into her room … can we?" Anna's eyes looked pleadingly up to the stout butler, in obvious need to be assured that her mother figure was indeed well. Before her mind's eye Mrs Hughes had fallen and lay unconscious on the floor or was too ill to call out for help. Panic was slowly forming a lump in her throat.

Mr Carson exhaled a miserable sigh. Anna was right; she or the other maids couldn't very well barge into the housekeeper's room upstairs. Only two people could do that and since Mrs Patmore was currently up to her elbows in work, this particular chore would fall to him. His unusual hesitation had drawn the attention of the rest of the staff and now small whisperings sprouted up along the table. It was that moment that Thomas chose to pipe in.

"What if she has fallen while getting up?" he asked falsely helpful, a mocking note to his voice earning him a glare from all the maids around the table.

Suddenly Charles' mind was flooded with images of his dream from last night. Instantly he was painfully hard and incredibly guilty; his dearest friend might be ill or hurt and all he could think of was her scantily clad body. Reigning in his wayward thoughts, he scowled at Thomas before addressing the assembled staff, "Proceed with breakfast. Mr Barrow, you'll be in charge of breakfast upstairs." And with that he stalked stiffly out of the hall towards the stairs to the attic. Looking up, he swallowed thickly before setting his foot heavily on the first step. He had nowhere to run and the rules of servitude and hierarchy dictated his next actions.

oOoOoOo

A soft knock interrupted Elsie's solitude and her thoughts, spiralling more and more out of control. She had spent the majority of her life at the beck and call of others and running to the aid when needed. That's why the thought of refusing didn't even cross her mind.

"Come in," she said listlessly, not even rising from her seat by the window. Her dull eyes were still trained on the scenery outside and didn't notice the hesitant steps Mr Carson made to enter her room.


	4. Chapter 4

**A./N.: Things are slowly heating up for our favourite couple. Hope you enjoy it. Drop me a line if you want.**

CHAPTER 4

A knock on her door jolted Elsie out of her misery. Sighing inwardly, she resigned herself to let in whoever Mrs Patmore had sent up to check on her. Really, it was small miracle that she had been left alone for so long without someone to knock down her door. Maybe her maids had been overjoyed at not being supervised by the fierce Scottish Dragon for once, a dark part of her muttered.

"Come in," she called softly, not even contemplating to rise from her seat by the window. Her voice didn't sound much like her normal voice, somehow it was hollow and strained as if talking required more effort than usual. Still gazing out of the window, she didn't see who entered her room. She only heard the door opening and closing, then a long pause while she waited for the seemingly evitable scolding for shirking her duty.

Charles was struck speechless by her unguarded beauty. His heart went out to her. She looked so small and vulnerable, quiet unlike her usual stern self. It was an image he was sure would stick with him for eternity. If possible he fell more in love with her in this dark hour than in all the glorious ones when she was glowing with pride over a perfectly executed event.

"Elsie," he called softly, forgetting proper etiquette as he stepped away from the door further into her private room. His earlier apprehension had instantly evaporated upon seeing her pale complexion and slumped shoulders. He yearned to take her into his arms and comfort her, but he was also afraid to do so lest he lose control completely. Damn Barrow and his insinuations! Damn his own traitorous libido!

The voice calling her name so tenderly was undeniably male, it's owner daring to use her Christian name. Spinning around on her chair, Elsie was somewhat unsurprised, but also deeply unsettled, to see Mr Carson. 'Of course it would be him,' she thought bitterly. 'Of all the times to have him …' she blushed deeply at her own thoughts, abruptly cutting them off. Suddenly she became aware that she was still glad in only her nightgown, her long plait hanging down her back. Hastily she jumped up, trying to shield herself behind the inadequate cover of her hands, nearly tripped over the hem of her long, matronly nightgown. With a startled exclamation she fell forward, but never hit the floor. Instead she suddenly found herself leaning heavily against Mr Carson's chest. His proximity, especially after her unsettling dreams and her even more unsettling reaction to them, unnerved her greatly, sending shock waves of desire though her body. Her senses tingled and she was hyperaware of the man in whose arms she lay. Charles' intense gaze upon her made her gasp and wish for her dreams to come true.

Downton's stoic butler lost his first internal battle. Before today he had prided himself on his honour and integrity, as she had termed it, always able to withstand temptation; be it in the form of wealth or beauty. Today, though, marked the day when he fell before the feet of a fiery, petite, and beautiful Scotswoman. He just couldn't resist her and he felt no inclination to even try.

Acting without conscious thought and purely on primal instinct, Charles swept her up in his arms while hers instinctively went around his neck to prevent her from tumbling backwards with the sheer force of his embrace. He stroked her back, silently communicating to her that he was still her best friend and confident of many years, that she mustn't be afraid of him. Elsie was instantly reassured and buried her fingers in his hair. Pulling away, she tried to get a proper look at him. Their eyes met for a breathless moment, both smiling sweetly and a little shyly at each other, as heat surged through her body once again, making it impossible to think. Then his mouth was on hers, his breath warmly mingling with her own.

She had been kissed before, many, many years ago. Joe Burns, the most persistent and resent of her suitors, had done it a number of times before she turned down his proposal and entered service at Downton. A moment ago, she would have said that she liked kissing well enough, but didn't quite understand what all the fuss was about and why young maids should risk everything for it.

This was different. Liking it didn't begin to describe the torrent of emotions thundering in her body and heart. Hot sweetness raced from his lips through her body, making her tingle, making the breath come short in her lungs, making her knees watery. Powerful awareness of all the places their bodies touched – from his palms on her back to her breasts, belly and thighs crushed against his – made the blood pound in her veins.

Suddenly Charles took his mouth away.

"No," she whispered breathlessly, desperate for their nearness, and pulled him back. He was gentler this time, easing his lips carefully over hers, pulling away briefly, then returning. 'A good thing he's holding me up,' she thought giddily, 'Otherwise I'd fall over.'

In the end he pulled away with a strangled laugh and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over to her bed. There he sat, cradling Elsie in his lap. "Thank God, you're not offended," he whispered, smoothing her curls away from her face. "I'd never want to upset you."

Added to her frantic, confusing, and self-deprecating thoughts, it was too much. She buried her face in his shirt so he wouldn't see the tears which trickled from her eyes. He seemed content to simply hold her in his arms, lips against her hair.


	5. Chapter 5

**I apologize for being absent for so long. Your PMs and Reviews asking me to come back and keep writing very very sweet and I thank you for them. My beta and I work overtime getting the other chapters and stories done and uploading them in the next days. I hope you'll forgive me and kindly leave a review.**

CHAPTER 5

Sitting on Charles' lap Elsie felt completely at ease for the first time in a very long while; not since she had left the farm and had to protect her own reputation. Ever since her first day here at the Abbey she had known that she could trust Mr Carson explicitly. He had made it clear right from the start that he wouldn't allow any lewd behaviour from the footmen towards the maids. At whatever point she would tell him to stop during this … interlude of theirs, he would do so without complaint or resentment. He was, above all, a true gentleman. The only problem was that she didn't want him to stop. Truth be told, she wanted him as close to her as two people could possibly be.

Her entire life she had closed herself off to carnal desire, had heeded her parents' harsh words – "fallen women have no family", "when you're with child, you're as good as dead to us" – but this late in her life she couldn't find the strength in her anymore to fight her own treacherous body. Charles' scent had always drawn her in, smelled of home. She knew the sound of his step, that his blustering masked a genteel nature, his every minute expression of every emotion. Years ago she had admitted to herself that she loved Mr Carson as she had never loved another human being before. Today would hopefully mark the day she could show him her love in a very physical way.

Judging by his actions, he didn't seem to be averse to the idea. Sitting here on his lap, Elsie borrowed closer into his chest, her small hands clasping the lapels of his suit jacket. Breathing deeply she cuddled closer still, feeling the effect her proximity and on him. Nuzzling his jawline she hoped to convey to him, in her own clumsy way, that she was flattered by his reaction and hoped they could continue this … whatever it was. She wasn't even sure what to name this feeling: attraction – certainly; desire – yes, that was there, too; love – for her it was, but what did Charles feel?

Carefully she shifted her head so that she could peek at Charles' face through her lashes, trying to gauge how he felt for her truly. He had called her his love, but, as her mother had been wont to say, men had laid it on far more thickly to get under a woman's skirts. As her gaze slid slowly up over his chest she encountered his tenderly smiling lips before settling on his soft brown eyes, looking directly into hers.

His soft, warm voice floated through her desire-drugged mind, "As cuddly as this is and as much as I would like to … continue this, it is neither the right time nor the … well, I suppose the place would be right …" he ended lamely, drawing a warm chuckle from the woman on his lap, but he could also feel Elsie gently extricating herself from his embrace and sitting up.

She ruefully smiled at him, her hand affectionately stroking his cheek and her eyes dancing merrily up into his. With a little sigh escaping her parted lips, she whispered, "I wish I wouldn't be hearing my mother's voice in my head, preaching morality …" Another sigh and the loveliest blush Charles had ever seen halted her words. Her eyes were bashfully cast downwards, but the steady rhythm of her caresses spoke a language all its own. It would be best to stop now when they both were lucid enough to do so instead of getting carried away and regret it come the next morning or even just later today. Sighing again she made to move off Charles, but his large hands wrapped possessively around her waist, cupping her derrier and drawing her tighter to his rather obvious desire for her. Blushing furiously she squirmed on his lap, earning herself a deep groan from the man beneath her.

"Charles … please," she moaned, not sure anymore if she was begging him to release her or to take her to her bed. Before either could lose their mind, though, a persistent knock sounded from the door.

"Mr Carson? Mrs Hughes? Are you in there?" Anna's voice called through the door. Then there was a slight pause before they could hear true, deeply-felt concern for the housekeeper and barely held-back tears. "Mr Carson, please, is Mrs Hughes well?"

Looking deeply into Elsie's eyes Charles took a deep breath before he answered the worried Lady's-maid. "She's not hurt, Anna, …" Elsie vigorously shook her head, eyes wide and pleading him not to throw her to the wolves downstairs. She still wasn't up to facing others moment with Charles had only served to confuse her more, arouse her body more. Charles seemed to read her mind, "… but she still needs to rest today. She has worked very hard of late and is tired. I'll be down in a moment. Could you ask Mrs Patmore for a tray in the meantime?" He wanted to buy a little more time alone with Elsie.

"Of course, Mr Carson," Anna's voice replied eagerly and then they could hear her retreating footsteps.

Charles sighed audibly, letting his forehead bump gently against Elsie's. "I should leave you now before Anna returns and gets an eyeful," he muttered more to himself than to his rapt audience.

"I'm sure it's nothing she hasn't done already with Mr Bates," Elsie mumbled under her breath.

"Elsie!" Charles exclaimed scandalized, but he couldn't contain his own roar of laughter as he heard the slightly embarrassed chuckle stifled against his chest.


End file.
